


Slower

by Fastern



Series: Fastern's Den of Oumasai Sin [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 04:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12357909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fastern/pseuds/Fastern
Summary: Shuichi catches Kokichi off-guard.





	Slower

**Author's Note:**

> I have to go pray now. This is awful. Just awful.

“I want to go slower.”  
  
Kokichi just about dropped his pants back on the floor.  
  
He was in a closet. Some musty, old broom closet that wasn’t exactly the ideal place for a soirée, but somehow that was where he’d found himself. Cramped in a broom closet with Shuichi Saihara pressing against his back and also struggling to get himself back in order after a bit of a romp in the dark. It was how their encounters always went ever since the Love Hotel—brief moments of glorious euphoria, stolen away in dark, secret places where their classmates wouldn’t think to look, places where Kokichi could let down his guard long enough to get a high. Right now, his hands were still shaking, and Shuichi’s statement caught him off-guard.  
  
He turned around as best as he was able to, elbowing Shuichi in the process. It was hard to discern facial expression in the darkness, but he felt the heat of Shuichi’s breath and the tense anticipation in his palliative voice. One thing could be said about Shuichi’s voice: it surrounded him. Made it impossible to ignore, impossible to do anything but be transfixed by his every word.  
  
“Slower?” Kokichi asked. “What, groping around in the dark not good enough for you?”  
  
“I—well—it’s—it’s not that,” Shuichi stammered.  
  
Kokichi could feel his radiating body heat. It vaguely occurred to Kokichi that he should be embarrassed that his pants were still hanging around his ankles and that Shuichi’s member was still flopping around right in front of him.  
  
“It’s just...” Shuichi murmured. He reached out with his hands, tracing Kokichi’s arms. “I want to...”  
  
“...Go slower,” Kokichi finished for him. “Yeah, you said that. You gonna expand on that or have I made you all tongue-tied?”  
  
Shuichi flubbed about in a way that suggested that that was exactly the case. Funny how the guy could manage to be assertive during sex, and then immediately turn into a mess afterword.  
  
“I just,” Shuichi started again. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you like doing things... _quickly_.”  
  
“I got a busy schedule,” Kokichi shrugged. “Things to do, people to torment, Evil Supreme Leader business to attend to. That stuff won’t take care of itself, y’know.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. I know. But...I want to...I mean...I want to appreciate you.”  
  
“Wha-a-at? Shuichi, are you using me for my body? Because I’m perfectly okay with that.”  
  
Shuichi stifled a laugh. “Listen, I don’t know what... _this_...is to you...I mean, I have a feeling that if I ask, you’ll lie. But to me, this is kind of special. I’ve never done this sort of thing with anyone before and I just—well, I never really planned to until I met you, to be honest. It’s—yeah, we can do what we’re doing now, that’s—that’s fine. It’s just...uh...Damn, I had this all planned out in my head. What I’m trying to say is that this means more to me than just... _this_. I want...I want more.”  
  
Kokichi mulled over the words in his head. “Is this a proposal, Shuichi?”  
  
“W—What?! No!”  
  
“How could you say that?!” Kokichi’s eyes watered. “I thought this was true love!”  
  
“Wait, what?! No, I just—” Shuichi stopped short. “...That was a lie, wasn’t it?”  
  
“Shuichi, when it comes to you, you can decide which ones are lies and which ones are truths,” Kokichi teased, snuggling against his chest. “So what you’re saying is that you want to go running down the halls, holding hands, and shouting ‘Hey, we’re dating’!”  
  
“N—Not exactly,” Shuichi murmured. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I want...I want to take our time. I want to draw things out a little more.”  
  
“Hmm,” Kokichi hummed. “I guess that’s a reasonable demand.”  
  
“It’s—It’s not a demand, exactly, I—”  
  
“No, no, no. I was getting tired of the closet anyways. I like seeing you squirm.”  
  
“I’m not the squirmy one...”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am nothing but poised and respectable during intimate relations. So, when and where do you want to ‘take it slow’?”  
  
“J—Just like that?”  
  
“Sure, why not? So how about we do it in my lab?”  
  
“To be honest, I don’t really want a bunch of clown masks staring at us.”  
  
“How about Maki’s lab, then? It’s the perfect venue! If you don't please me the way I want you to, I have a knife in reach for stabbing.”  
  
“...I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”  
  
“That’s disappointing. _Fine._ You pick the place, then.”  
  
Shuichi thought about it. “Could I...surprise you?”  
  
“Surprise me?” Kokichi snorted. “Hate to break it to you, but _nobody_ surprises Kokichi Oma.”  
  
“I enjoy a challenge.”  
  
Kokichi snickered. He wasn’t sure whether it was impressive or laughable that Shuichi was entertaining the idea that he could get the drop on him; Kokichi had spent much of his life anticipating unpleasant surprises, though this one was decidedly more pleasant. Maybe if he put his mind to it, he could suppress the inherent tendency to analyze anything and let himself be duped by the great Shuichi Saihara.  
  
“Okay, then,” Kokichi cooed. “You’re free to try to surprise me, Shuichi, but you won’t be able to do it.”  
  
They finished putting their clothes back in order in the dark, the silence prominent.  
  
“How do I look?” Kokichi asked. “Desirable?”  
  
“I can’t see you very well,” Shuichi said.  
  
“Tsk, tsk, Shuichi. You should know that the answer to that question should always be ‘amazing’. Because that’s the one thing about me that’s the truth.”  
  
Kokichi, who was closest to the handle, wrenched open the closet door and they stumbled back out into the hallway...  
  
...And right into Keebo.  
  
Keebo jumped back as they hit the open air. His ahoge stood right up on point and he let out a startled yelp.  
  
“Oh, you startled me!” Keebo exclaimed. He watched them both carefully, looking from one to the other, maybe noticing the way Shuichi’s shirt was still ruffled and that his hair was askew. “What were you two doing in there?”  
  
Shuichi flushed red. “Uh, it’s not what it looks like!”  
  
“We were playing hide-and-seek,” Kokichi lied. “Except _somebody_ forgot how to play. I told you, Shuichi! When you’re ‘it’ you can’t hide with the person you’re supposed to find.”  
  
Kokichi wagged his finger at Shuichi, then walked passed Keebo, who eyebrows were at unequal heights.  
  
“Ah, well, I was getting bored anyways,” Kokichi sighed. “Let me know if you ever want to play again!”  
  
As Kokichi headed down the hall, hands behind his head, he distinctly heard Keebo say, “Would you like me to outline the rules of hide-and-seek for you, Shuichi? If you’re going to play with Kokichi, you had best be versed in all possible rule variations.”

* * *

 

Kokichi spent the next week looking over his shoulder and avoiding Shuichi like Tenko avoided men. It was the ultimate challenge in self-restraint to not launch himself onto the Ultimate Detective whenever someone’s back was turned, though he knew that his efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed. Remaining subtle was difficult when everyone in the class gathered in the dining hall for breakfast, Shuichi walked in, and Kokichi would rush out the other entrance before he could so much as say ‘good morning’. All the same, he was happy to let them keep guessing what was going on.  
  
By the time the end of the week rolled around and Shuichi hadn’t made any attempt to surprise him, Kokichi was beginning to get disquieted in both the worst and best possible way. It was the worst because he’d had to spend all that time without Shuichi. It was the best because if the suspense was making Kokichi lie awake at night, then it had to be absolute torture for Shuichi. Hopefully. He didn’t want to think about the alternatives.  
  
At the end of the day, the sun was receding and all was quiet; some of the students had already turned in for the night and others were working on late-night projects. Tsumugi was held up in her room, her sewing machine rattling away, and as he passed Angie’s room, he caught the distinct smell of incense. From outside his own room, Kokichi looked down towards Shuichi’s door. There was no sign of movement and he hadn’t seen him for most of the afternoon.  
  
Which made him think that Shuichi was waiting to launch an attack.  
  
Fortunately, Kokichi had anticipated an ambush. He’d set a tripwire with fish wire running along the bottom of the door just inside the room. In addition, he’d set one of his spare shoes in a manner that the door couldn’t be opened without disturbing it to some degree. Of course, he knew that Shuichi wouldn’t fall for that. However, what Shuichi couldn’t avoid was the glitter Kokichi had rigged to rain down on any intruders. No way anyone could conceal their guilt if they’d entered his room, not when their clothes were dusted with gold glitter. It would be a sure sign of their guilt.  
  
Kokichi unlocked his door and nudged it open in a way that wouldn’t disturb the tripwire or the glitter. He fumbled for the light. Once it was on, he sidled inside, looked up, and found the glitter right on the ledge where he’d left it.  
  
“Dammit,” Kokichi sighed, shoulders sinking. He’d almost been looking forward to a surprise.  
  
Exactly how long did Shuichi expect him to wait? Kokichi was tempted to march down to his room, force his way inside, and take the initiative.  
  
Ripping off his scarf, he threw it in frustration towards the many boxes of papers and folders and notes, then stormed his way into his bathroom.  
  
He got two steps in when he felt a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and lifted him up.  
  
Kokichi _screamed_.  
  
The scream ripped out of his lungs with painful force. In full panic-mode, Kokichi kicked out his legs. Tense energy zinged through the air, then faded as quickly as it arose when the arms tightened around him protectively. He knew that touch.  
  
“Shuichi?” Kokichi gasped.  
  
He turned his head and there was Shuichi, holding him close and off the ground.  
  
“Er—sorry,” Shuichi apologized. “If I’d known you would scream that loud, I would’ve...uh...not done that.”  
  
Kokichi’s heart settled in his chest. He burst out laughing. “That was great!”  
  
“...It was?”  
  
“You got the drop on me!” Kokichi marvelled, craning his neck back as far as it could go to give Shuichi an appraising smile. “You actually did it! You actually got the drop on me!”  
  
“You’re not angry?”  
  
Kokichi patted Shuichi's cheek. “Silly Shuichi. Of course I’m not angry. But I am curious how you got past my ingenious trap.”  
  
“It wasn’t that hard. I figured you had to have some sort of security measure in place and once I detected the trip wire, I just stepped over it.”  
  
“I should’ve known that my amateur trap was no match for my favourite detective.”  
  
The conversation was interrupted by a firm, urgent rapping knock on the door.  
  
“Whoopsie,” said Kokichi. “Someone must’ve heard me scream.”  
  
Shuichi blanched. “Crap, no one can know I’m here or I’ll never hear the end of it!”  
  
“Leave it to me! Kokichi Oma is the master of deceit.”  
  
“I know, I know, just get rid of whoever it is!”  
  
Shuichi hid in the bathroom while Kokichi hopped over to his door. He propped it open and stuck his head out.  
  
It was Keebo. He was hunched over and his eyes bulged out in alarm, torn between being terrified that he was knocking on Kokichi’s door and extreme concern for its denizen. It was a rather impressive range for a robot.  
  
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Kee-boy,” said Kokichi. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Ah—actually, never mind. To have the pleasure of your company, you’d have to be a real person. Bye!”  
  
Kokichi went to shut the door. Keebo’s arm shot out to stop it.  
  
“I heard a scream!” Keebo exclaimed. “Is everything okay?”  
  
“A scream?” Kokichi repeated. “You need to get Miu to clean your ears out. Nobody’s been screaming in here except my torture victims.”  
  
“T—Torture victims?!”  
  
Kokichi cackled. “Ha! That was a lie. Did you fall for it?”  
  
“N—No, of course not! But I know what I heard. Now be serious with me for once. You’re not... _killing_ anyone, are you?”  
  
“Of course not,” Kokichi scoffed. “Do I look like I could ever kill anyone? I’m as innocent as it gets. Shuichi came over for a play-date and it surprised me a little.”  
  
He couldn't see or hear Shuichi react, but he could feel the Ultimate Detective tense up.  
  
“A play-date?” Keebo said, sounding out the word carefully.  
  
“That’s right. And you’re not invited due to not being a real boy.”  
  
“T—That’s robophobic!” Keebo protested. “At least let me see Shuichi so I know you aren’t killing him.”  
  
“Shuichi can’t come out,” said Kokichi. “He’s naked.”  
  
He spared a glance to Shuichi hiding just inside the bathroom door and was delighted to see his unbridled horror. It looked as though someone had grabbed either side of his face and pulled to get the most tormented expression possible. Although Shuichi was very much clothed, Kokichi got such exhilaration out of the lie that it took all his might to control himself.  
  
“Naked?” Keebo’s burrow furrowed. “Why would he be naked...?"  
  
“We’re having gratuitous, hot, steamy shower sex,” Kokichi went on. “And you’re still not invited!”  
  
The slight indications of emotion on Keebo’s face were truly fascinating as it shifted from confusion, to horror, to realization, and back to confusion again. He certainly looked as though his innocence had been shattered with the utterance of one sentence. Then, Keebo composed himself and put his hands on his hips.  
  
“I won’t fall for your lies again, Kokichi,” Keebo scoffed. “Shuichi isn’t even in there, is he?”  
  
“Oh, you got me!” Kokichi put up his hands in mock defeat. “You’re right, I was making that all up.”  
  
“Oh...you...you...” Keebo huffed. Composing himself, he said, “You should reconsider telling so many lies, Kokichi. You might regret it someday.”  
  
“Nice to see you, too. Bye-bye!”  
  
Kokichi slammed the door in his face. He leaned his back against it, grinning and smiling uncontrollably because his day had just gotten better and better.  
  
“Oh, man, that was fun,” he snickered. “Good things seem to happen whenever you’re around, Shuichi.”  
  
One minute, Kokichi was alone. His back pressed against the cool wood of the door, he was without his scarf and felt bare without it, and he was awash in his own self-contained world of perverted humour and self-centred mirth. One minute, he dragged his fingers over his mouth, wondering if Keebo was staring dumbstruck at the door wondering what the hell was going on. One minute, Kokichi grappled with his mind in the way he did when there was nobody around and he didn’t have to save face.  
  
The next minute, Shuichi was closing the distance between them and sinking his mouth onto his.  
  
Kokichi instinctively balked and the back of his head slammed against the door. Shuichi pinned him with his mouth, exploring it with his tongue, his lips gently parting, then closing, then parting again. He lost the heightened self-awareness he always carried with him, the one that kept him on edge and he became submerged in the sensation. Shuichi could do that. Only Shuichi. Only Shuichi could so thoroughly make him lose himself with the subtlest of touch, completely undoing him. Kokichi suddenly realized why he’d actually been avoiding him for the last week: not because of the promise of a surprise, but because he wanted to heighten the feeling when Shuichi did touch him. To allow himself to be lost again.  
  
Returning the kiss, Kokichi wrapped his arms around Shuichi in the hopes of absorbing his aura. He used his tongue to probe at his lips. Watermelon again. Sweet, not quite as intense as their first soirée at the Love Hotel. Quiet. Soft. Inviting. Familiar and safe. Kokichi grabbed onto the sensation and hoped he would be able to hold onto it for an eternity. If he did let it go, he was afraid some part of him would break.  
  
Shuichi broke apart. It was the best kiss he’d ever had.  
  
“Eh, your kissing needs some work,” Kokichi lied.  
  
Shuichi smiled gently, more gently than Kokichi thought he deserved. Their lips met a second time. Reaching over to the side of the door, Shuichi fumbled for the light switch, and the room dimmed to something comfortable, but not completely dark. Bright enough that he could still discern expression, dark enough that he could find consolation in the partial shadows now creating distinct patterns of light.  
  
Smiling against the kiss, Kokichi reached for Shuichi’s waistband.  
  
“We’re going slow, remember?” Shuichi reminded him.  
  
“Aw,” Kokichi huffed. Still, he retracted his hand and settled for gripping Shuichi’s hip.  
  
“Don’t worry, we have all evening.”  
  
“Well, I hope you don’t plan on taking _all_ evening.”  
  
Kokichi stepped forwards, thinking about the bed, but not able to coordinate any movement. He and Shuichi wandered, their lips still exploring one another until they hit another wall. Shuichi slipped his willowy fingers under Kokichi’s shirt, lifting it up as he traced the small indentation of his spine. The movement sent a tender joy through him. His senses ignited in a way that made him feel light-headed, like he could float, float away and take Shuichi with him, never to look back. Suddenly he wondered why life had been tolerable before this, before the feeling of Shuichi’s ever-roaming hands on his flesh.  
  
They knocked around the room for a short while, not really coordinated and grabbing at each other with gentle-but-desperate hands. Shuichi’s hands wandered higher and higher, hitching up Kokichi’s shirt. Taking Kokichi’s hand, he guided him to the couch and allowed himself to collapse over the armrest, pulling him until Kokichi straddled his waist. There was a spark in the air, an infernal urge that made Kokichi want to romp around like an animal, and then he saw Shuichi’s attentive eyes and was persuaded to stop.  
  
Take it slow, take it slow, take it slow. He sang it in his hand like a mantra, knowing that this was about Shuichi. It had always been about Shuichi. Kokichi was used to calculation and precise movements, followed by a flurry of sudden action that saw his plans executed. This was so, so different—and to his surprise, that sent a flutter of fear through him, a flutter that caused his hand to tremble as he reached for his face.  
  
Shuichi, being the detective he was, noticed. His eye flickered to Kokichi’s hand, his eyes asking the question that he always seemed to be a heartbeat away from asking.  
  
“I need to cut back on Panta,” Kokichi joked.  
  
By the way Shuichi’s eyebrows migrated up his forehead, the lie didn’t land quite the way he wanted it to. Mercifully, Shuichi didn’t call him out on it. He reached out and traced the small details on Kokichi’s body. His stomach retracted as Shuichi’s hand mapped over it, going from top to bottom and hooking his fingers into his belt.  
  
Kokichi fumbled with Shuichi’s buttons as he undid his belt and started pulling down his pants, shifting only to let his partner pull off one leg and then the other. Then he did the same with his boxers. It was by no means graceful. It instead left Kokichi shivering with anticipation, to the point of being almost desperate for Shuichi to stop procrastinating and touch him properly. Despite that, Shuichi peered up at him with glistening eyes. Kokichi’s chest clenched. Even though Shuichi’s hands only hovered over his pale skin, they paralyzed him. He was erect from that alone.  
  
“I want you to touch yourself.”  
  
Shuichi’s voice was balanced between commanding and soft, testing the waters. Kokichi stiffened his shoulders. This was a new development, but then again, he felt that everything had become different when Shuichi had told him that he wanted to go slow.  
  
“Trying to avoid doing all the dirty work yourself, huh?” Kokichi joked.  
  
Shuichi darkened. His hands touched Kokichi again, tracing his ribs and sending fresh shock waves through him.  
  
“Touch yourself,” Shuichi ordered.  
  
Very much against his will, Kokichi’s dick twitched.  
  
“You like being told what to do,” Shuichi observed, the small lilt of a question hanging on the edge of the sentence, not quite enough to ask outright.  
  
“N—No,” Kokichi denied. “Ultimate Supreme Leaders... _don’t_...take orders.”  
  
His mouth said the words, but his body had ideas of its own. Kokichi curled his fingers around himself.  
  
“I’m—I’m giving you the pleasure of this and don’t you forget it!”  
  
Kokichi gave himself a light stroke—hesitant, experimental. Touching himself had never really turned him on the past because he’d always had to do it alone. It had never been intimate enough, never enough to leave him satisfied. But with Shuichi’s eyes raking over his body, it ignited a desire he didn't realize he was capable of having. Being watched felt good. More than good. He was ascending. Why the hell had they been doing this in the dark when he could be assured of Shuichi’s complete attention on him in this lighting?  
  
That was how Kokichi Oma—Ultimate Supreme Leader, who at that moment was sitting on his fully-clothed romping partner—found out that he was an attention whore in any given situation.  
  
It didn’t take much effort to get worked up, as always. It never took long when Shuichi was there, but it took even less time with Shuichi’s hands lazily gripping his hips. Kokichi moved his hand up-down-up-down, rubbing his thumb over the tip. Fluid seeped out, cascading in sticky swathes over his fingers, impossible to contain, impossible to hide as Shuichi glanced between his dick and his face. Studying for a reaction, again. Watching. Looking to see what stirred the deepest part of Kokichi’s soul.  
  
An impulsive thought burst in his mind like a hemorrhage. He thought on it for only a moment before he acted on the sudden, overwhelming urge. Holding his dick in one hand, he reached behind with the other, propping himself on his knees just so. He hadn’t done this before, he hadn’t done this before, he hadn’t done this before. But all thoughts of nervousness or ill-defined anxiety flew out the window with Shuichi's appraising gaze. He took his index finger, lined it up, and pushed it into himself, his eyes never straying from Shuichi and—it was electric. Liquid pleasure filled his veins, egged on by his racing heart.  
  
His knees trembled with the effort of supporting his weight. Noticing this, Shuichi gripped his hips tighter, adjusting his legs so that he could get a better view.  
  
This was filthy, Kokichi thought vaguely. This was absolutely dirty and filthy, presenting himself like this. But at the same time, it was achingly gentle. It was slow. It was sweet.  
  
Shuichi was quiet throughout the whole ordeal. No surprise there. Kokichi was learning that Shuichi wasn’t much of a talker when doing the do; Kokichi's big mouth more than made up for the sometimes awkward silences. Whatever Shuichi didn’t say with his lips, he said with his eyes, wide and interested and watching everything, drinking it all in, calculating his next move. He was quiet, but his mind worked so quickly that he could hear the gears grinding in fabulous, methodical fashion.  
  
Kokichi panted, “Shuichi.”  
  
He couldn’t hold the position. He collapsed backward, his head hitting the couch’s armrest. Shuichi sat upright, a noticeable bulge visible in his groin area, the corners of his mouth turned upright in mild amusement.  
  
Kokichi curled his knee into his body and braced it against the back of the couch. He had better leverage this way and was able to thrust deeper into himself. It wasn’t enough to hit the spot he so desperately wanted to be touched, but it was better than nothing. Staying still proved to be an insurmountable task. He thrust his body in tandem with his finger, whispering Shuichi’s name, clinging to it.  
  
Shuichi’s hands explored up and down his body, first going over his chest and his nipples, then gripping his inner thighs to hold his legs apart.  
  
Soon.  
  
“Shuichi,” Kokichi gasped. “Shuichi, Shuichi, Shuichi...”  
  
Shuichi reached forwards and grabbed the hand over his dick, holding it as Kokichi continued pumping. Sweat dripped down Kokichi’s brow. He dug his teeth into his lower lip, quivering. Shuichi crawled between his legs and pressed their foreheads together.  
  
This was it. This was how he was gonna die. Rest in peace, Kokichi Oma. Died because Shuichi watched him jerk himself off. At least there would be a story behind his tombstone.  
  
“You’re not gonna die,” Shuichi said. Had he said that out loud? “Can you come for me?”  
  
He spasmed. It wasn’t violent. It was gentle. It roamed over him in its usual manner of going from toes to fingers. His muscles contracted around the finger in his ass. His body curled into Shuichi. He reached for him, kicking sporadically, moving and shifting as euphoria etched its way through him, then died much, much too soon for his liking. When it ended, Kokichi felt boneless and weak, his body trembling.  
  
Shuichi kissed his face.  
  
“Want to move to the bed?” Shuichi asked.  
  
“Is it over already?” Kokichi mumbled.  
  
“No, I just figure we’ll be more comfortable over there.”  
  
Kokichi smiled, eyes still closed. “If you want round two, you’re gonna have to carry me.”  
  
Kokichi didn’t tell him that he didn’t want Shuichi to see how wobbly he would be on his legs from masturbating alone.  
  
For a second, he thought that Shuichi wasn’t going to do it, but then the Ultimate Detective held his body closer and lifted him off of the couch. Kokichi wrapped his arms and legs around him, aware that his chest was a mess of come and Shuichi’s clothes were going to be a wreck by the time they were done.  
  
“You’re lighter than I thought you’d be,” Shuichi remarked.  
  
“You’re stronger than I thought _you’d_ be,” Kokichi countered. “That’s not a negative, of course. From now on, you have to carry me bridal style wherever we go.”  
  
Shuichi responded by tossing him into the bed. Kokichi giggled and watched with acute interest as Shuichi finally, finally, _finally_ pulled off his clothes, depositing them on the ground with abandon and looming over him.  
  
“I got an idea,” said Shuichi. “Roll onto your stomach?”  
  
“Want me to take it from behind?” Kokichi teased.  
  
“You’ll see.”  
  
He did as he was told and propped himself up on his elbows. That was before Shuichi’s hand traced along the back of his neck. Kokichi froze. But then Shuichi’s hand moved to his head and pushed it down against the mattress, rougher than he’d ever touched him before. His dick, which had flagged after his orgasm, convulsed. Kokichi cried out, shifting his body to get some small semblance of delicious friction.  
  
Shuichi’s fingers ran down his back, gentle at first, and then harder as he found the small parts that made Kokichi fall apart beautifully. Whatever Shuichi touched erupted into flames. He was sure he was babbling again, his thoughts unending and pouring out of him, unable to stop. The fingers tracked down his spine. Shuichi spread his hands on his lower back and moved up up again.  
  
“Does this feel good?” Shuichi asked. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”  
  
Kokichi ran his cheek across the sheets. “Hm.”  
  
“I love your back.”  
  
“Heh. Is that your fetish?”  
  
“It’s just really nice.”  
  
“You could—(ah, keep doing that)—you could do worse.”  
  
“Kokichi?” Shuichi curled over his back, running kisses over his shoulders. “Tell me what you want?”  
  
“Don’t ask me what I want,” Kokichi breathed.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Don’t ask me what I want. That’s what I want.” Kokichi’s eyes shuddered open. “Does that make sense?”  
  
Shuichi’s lips passed over the side of his neck, then down to his shoulder. It was there that he clamped his teeth down hard enough to break flesh. He moaned and gasped, liquid fervour pulsing from the place Shuichi had bitten as if Kokichi was unequivocally and insurmountably his. The thought of surrendering himself so completely to another person, a concept once so surreal to him, so strange, and yet it was now so easy to give that privilege to Shuichi. The naked passion lay before him, exposed and vulnerable. Shuichi’s arm wrapped underneath his body and pulled in him into a crushing, never-let-you-go embrace.  
  
Shuichi’s fingers danced across the small of his back, then reached down. With his lips still resting on his shoulder, he moved them as if to ask a question, then apparently thought better of it. His finger, dainty but long, slid into him in one smooth motion. Kokichi’s breath caught and the low moan increased in volume, carrying through the otherwise silent room. He clamped down on the digit and shifted his hips. Gasping to keep his breathing steady in an unsteady situation, Kokichi grabbed the sheets in his mouth and bit down as hard as he could, muffling the keening noise emerging from deep in his throat. Warmth in his belly radiated upwards, clouding his mind, pushing his thoughts around like a haphazard game of pinball, back-and-forth, knocked around in wild abandon.  
  
There was a pause for Shuichi to reach for the dresser and grab the lube. Even though his fingers were gone from Kokichi were only for a second, it felt like an agonizing lifetime. When he came back, Shuichi grabbed his hip and slid his finger back inside. He swirled his finger around for a minute, and when he found that spot, Kokichi let out a groan that ended up as a snort and a giggle.  
  
Seizing him under his arms, Shuichi hauled him right so that he was sitting on his lap. Shuichi worked another finger inside of him, while Kokichi could feel his fully erect dick against his ass, wet and soaked. How Shuichi managed to maintain this much self-control was beyond him.  
  
“Don’t wait,” Kokichi gasped out.  
  
Shuichi’s fingers froze inside of him. “But shouldn’t—”  
  
“I don’t want to wait anymore.”  
  
He could feel Shuichi's hesitation, but he nevertheless pulled out, leaving him feeling empty and alone. Shuichi lifted Kokichi up, his strength unmatched. He felt the tip lightly press against him. The strain of supporting his weight in such an awkward position left his legs trembling; he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold this for long.  
  
“Can you beg?” Shuichi asked.  
  
“Begging?” Kokichi gasped despite himself. “Seriously? Supreme Leaders don’t beg.”  
  
Shuichi made no effort to move. Kokichi tried to wiggle his way down, but he was kept in place, totally at the Ultimate Detective’s mercy. This must look absolutely ridiculous, being held up like this. In the back of his mind, he thought he had an image of Miu getting all hot and bothered, rubbing her legs together.  
  
A turn-off if he ever had one. He kicked imaginary-Miu out of his head.  
  
“I...” Kokichi breathed. “I want...”  
  
“Yes?” Shuichi said, pressing his lips against his ear.  
  
“I want you to fuck me already.” While he meant for it to come out as a command, to his horror it emerged as a plea, strained and breathless.  
  
Shuichi grabbed Kokichi’s shoulders and pushed him down.  
  
He was impaled on Shuichi’s dick far too quickly, and pain erupted. Kokichi squirmed, his arms and legs kicking out, trying to get control and failing miserably. He could feel Shuichi deep inside him, deeper than ever before. There hadn’t been nearly enough preparation for this moment, emotionally or physically.  
  
It was like the first time all over again.  
  
An ungodly scream tore out of his lungs. Kokichi leaned his head back on Shuichi’s shoulder, struggling to take in air. He held onto the sensation for as long as possible.  
  
“You’re good at screaming,” Shuichi whispered.  
  
Kokichi arched his back into Shuichi, groaning.  
  
“Do you like that? Do you like it when I make you scream?”  
  
Kokichi gasped, and it took enormous effort to form words. “Y—You’re such a tease.”  
  
Shuichi pulled out almost all the way. Then he slammed back in with frantic force, knocking him off balance. He screamed again, and the scream flew to the ceiling and would surely carry past the confines of his room, but Kokichi couldn’t find the energy to care. Groping for Shuichi’s arms, he squeezed as hard as he could and hoped he left bruises. The burn from the intrusion rocketed up through his body, sizzling and sharp. Sweat poured down his back, gluing him and Shuichi together. The musky smell hanging in the air made him feel blessedly out-of-control.  
  
He realized with a strange sort of pride that there was no way he was going to be able to walk after this.  
  
Shuichi thrust into him in earnest, pulling Kokichi over his body and planting gentle kisses on his shoulder. Kokichi could no longer contain the humiliating noises ripping out of his body, so foreign to him that he could hardly believe that it was his voice crying, squealing, pleading.  
  
“Kee-boy’s gonna be knocking on the door again at this rate,” Kokichi moaned.  
  
“Do you...do you have to talk right now?” Shuichi asked.  
  
“W—What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean it’s—it’s kind of— _ah_ —weird.”  
  
Kokichi snickered. “If it bugs you, try to stop me.”  
  
Kokichi let out a startled cry as Shuichi pushed forwards and shoved him into the mattress readjusting himself inside. He brushed against that spot, sending Kokichi reeling against the sheets, grabbing onto whatever he could reach for some leverage. Weakly, he pushed back against Shuichi. He held onto power and then it slid through his fingers like sand.  
  
Shuichi probed inside, trying to find that spot. When he did find it, Kokichi let out a godawful moan that would probably send him straight to hell. Shuichi gripped him so hard that he was sure he was leaving behind bruises. Kokichi felt a rush of strange pride that he was going to be wearing the marks Shuichi had left for him, small signs that this wasn't part of his twisted imagination, that the Ultimate Detective was the one filling him up and stretching him further than anyone else had ever before. Overwhelmed by the feeling of Shuichi’s hands on his back, he pressed his forehead into the mattress, gasping and thrashing and feelings of it’s-just-too-much-but-still-not-enough.  
  
Shuichi hoisted his backside to the air and shoved deep inside. He found the spot. This time, he didn’t let it go, going back and forward in a way that ensured that he brushed it each time. Kokichi howled. This was much rougher than any other time before, like he’d awakened some strange predatory instinct in the gentle, good-natured Shuichi Saihara. The sheets were soaked with sweat. His body wound up as the end crept up on him with force of an raging solar flare. He was afraid. He was afraid that he was going to be scorched and his bones would melt.

“N–No,” he groaned, his mind liquefying. He wasn’t sure why he said it, it was a word at the front of his mind that spilled off of his tongue in the heat of the moment.  
  
Shuichi stopped. His breath was hot against his ear. “Y—You want me to stop?”  
  
“No, keep going,” Kokichi gasped, because the alternative was unbearable, the thought of getting this far only to stop. Solar flares couldn't be stopped once they'd been ignited. He wiggled his hips to try to convey something to Shuichi—anything to get him to move again.  
  
Shuichi obliged. With surprising strength, he slammed into him again and again. Warmth exploded in the pit of Kokichi’s belly and surged upwards.  
  
Shuichi pulled out. He flipped onto his back and dragged Kokichi on top of him, easily manoeuvring his hips to line him back up. With another thrust, he reentered, the crippling sensation causing violent light to explode in front of Kokichi’s eyes. Oversensitive, overstimulated, overwhelmed, Kokichi collapsed, a cocktail of pleasure-pain tearing him apart. Somehow, Shuichi had reached into his soul and torn him apart at the seams.  
  
Shuichi pushed back into him. It took a few tries to find that spot again, and when he did, Kokichi was back to screaming and gasping for air again. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, afraid of what he would see if he opened them, though he already knew what was there. Shuichi holding him, Shuichi watching, Shuichi's hands exploring and wandering.  
  
In the air, Kokichi suddenly sensed that something had changed between them, starting at the point where their bodies connected together in brilliant fashion.  
  
As the realization struck him, so to did the overwhelming need for release. Kokichi squirmed. This one wasn’t going to be easy. The sensation before the end dragged on for an agonizing period of time, throbbing through his body. Excruciating. He needed a little bit more. Just something to end it, to end the wonderful torture Shuichi was capable of putting him through. Kokichi pressed back against Shuichi.  
  
It ended with the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced. Kokichi screamed. The pleasure surged upwards and crashed over him. He writhed violently, held only in place by Shuichi’s arms—one hand on the back of his head, the other on the small of his back. Thoroughly and completely taken apart, he was only vaguely aware of Shuichi moaning himself, and then the feeling of his dick throbbing deep inside of him, signalling his own release. Shuichi gave a few other thrusts and then relaxed.  
  
They collapsed together. Panting, Shuichi pulled out with a sick pop. Kokichi pried open his eyes for the first time.  
  
Shuichi was an absolute _wreck_. His eyes were prominent out in the shadows, unfocused and looking at a spot on the ceiling. His hair was plastered to his forehead with a thick layer of sweat. The afterglow, the moment of shocked, indulgent silence, throbbed between them. Kokichi lay on his chest, almost nauseous from joy.  
  
“That was...not boring,” he conceded.  
  
Kokichi collapsed to the side. As he shifted his legs, he realized that the inside of his thighs were sticky and wet.  
  
"Do you, uh, want to shower?" Shuichi asked.  
  
Kokichi only hummed in response.  
  
"...Okay. Let's sleep for a while."  
  
He felt Shuichi curl up. Sheets were pulled up to his chin. When Shuichi's arm draped over him, he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

When he woke up, there was something warm and wet running down his thighs.  
  
Kokichi groaned and shifted. His lower body—particularly his pelvic area—shrieked in protest. Yup. There were definitely bruises there.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
There was an edge of fervent concern in Shuichi’s voice that immediately woke him up. Blinking against his drowsiness, Kokichi found Shuichi right at his side. He was running a wet washcloth down his legs.  
  
“Wha’ time is it?” Kokichi muttered.  
  
“Around midnight,” said Shuichi. “You’re...uh...bleeding. I’m so sorry, Kokichi.”  
  
“Bleeding?”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Shuichi apologized again. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t—I don’t know what got into me.”  
  
“Shuichi,” said Kokichi, memories flooding back into him. “You’re apologizing for the best sex I’ve ever had. That doesn’t compute.”  
  
Shuichi blinked at him, his eyebrows curved upwards. There was that concern, again.  
  
“I hurt you,” Shuichi blurted out.  
  
God. Was he going to cry? Kokichi didn’t know how to handle someone else's tears.  
  
“Shuichi, don’t,” said Kokichi. He reached for Shuichi’s hand and gently enveloped it in his. “I loved it, _especially_ the parts where it hurt.”  
  
“But—”  
  
Kokichi hauled himself upright—his pelvis made its complaints known—and kissed him, only breaking apart when the pain became unbearable.  
  
When Shuichi was done cleaning him up, Kokichi held him close and tried to convey through the embrace what he couldn’t say through words.


End file.
